


Road to Reconstruction

by Failed_to_Deanon



Series: Companions in Death [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aerys Is His Own Warning, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:42:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Failed_to_Deanon/pseuds/Failed_to_Deanon
Summary: Viserys navigates life with Rhaenys after her death.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Viserys Targaryen and Rhaenys Targaryen
Series: Companions in Death [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149746
Comments: 32
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Though this is set in the same universe as "Death Casts Long Shadows" reading the other piece isn't required, though it may be helpful.

He had seen four name days when Rhaenys is born and seven when she died. 

Rhaenys had been there every step of his life since then. 

Sometimes, he looks up and sees her as he knew her: a delicate, little thing with shining dark skin with an easy smile. Other times, she’d look like the way he imaged she had when she died: still that age with skin looking like a blistered red and black mess with face nearly melted off and that usually smiling mouth twisted into a scream.

Today she comes to him as she could have been had she allowed to grow up. She looks so much like Arianne, he thinks. 

Not quite the same. The sharper angles of her face remind him more of Elia and she is thinner as well; slightly taller. The wide dark eyes, dusky skin, the inky black hair; that’s all Arianne. The dress she came to him in, orange silks cut the Lyseni way dappled with Myrish lace, was like what Arianne favors for certain occasions.

The resemblance is uncanny. 

“Oh, Uncle, that’s disgusting.”

He laughs. “I cannot help it, Niece.”

She is smiling where there would have been a sneer from anyone else. She is not mad at him. She never could be. His sweet girl with her mother’s wit and her grandmother’s kindness. “Because we are Targaryen?”

When he was a boy, he asked his father about it once. 

_He looks up to his father who has a hand on his shoulder. He ask, “Am I to wed her?”_

_His father’s talons dug into his shoulders. “No, boy. She is not worthy.”_

_Frowning, he turns to his father. “But, father she is my niece and I-”_

_His father grips his shoulder, squeezing too tightly. “No, boy. I will not let her dirty blood mingle with our own.”_

He had been too young to understand how illogical his father was. If Rhaegar could marry Elia, surely, he could wed Rhaenys? He had no sister then and they had been of an age that was not too far apart. To his young mind, marrying his niece one day made sense.

He had been a little fool then. He had not understood the depths his father’s hatred could reach. He does not understand that man even now, not that he wants to. 

Sometimes, he wonders what his life would have been like had his father not been such a bitter man. He dreamt about it more than once. But, dreams are just that. In those dreams Rhaenys was alive. He wished those dreams could be sweet and they were not. Because when he wakes up, he is forced again to remember Rhaenys was already dead. That is no good dream at all.

Though she is in front of him, he recognizes that. It is a comfort that he can still see her and speak to her but also not one when he can look at her and hear still hear that horrible whisper from somewhere behind him, calling him, “Viserys”. 

He frowns. 

That odious whisper never goes away. It is weak like the man who used to wield it used to be, but it’s still here despite his best efforts. He has tried so hard to fight it and forget it entirely. Oh, how he tried. He can keep it at bay. Over the years he learned how. Yet, it never truly goes away. He is resolved to ignore it. He will not sacrifice all he has just to listen to that voice. 

No good came from giving it attention. His Rhaenys said it once.

Staring at the crown in his hands, the one the High Septon will place atop his head in a few short hours, he knows Rhaenys was right. Because she was right, he does his best to ignore that other voice. Today he will continue to do it. He earned this day, his coronation day, by ignoring it. If he had listened to that voice, he would have not gotten any of what he has.

Today, while his mother, eldest nephew, and brother are no longer here, this day he shares with his wife, his children, his sister, his good-sister, and his nephew. Most of all he shares it with Rhaenys who never left him. He never wanted it any other way.


	2. How it Began

He’d been watching his mother when he sees the low light flicker. Mother had been tired lately, and his father decided that he and Mother would be moved to the Maidenvault. He had not understood why they had to leave. They had won! Rhaegar was coming home! Still, because his father was the king, they had listened. Mother said to listen to Father and he had not wanted to disappoint either of them, particularly since he learned Mother was with child. She had not started to show but he knew she was. Maester Pycelle confirmed it and his father had been so happy.

He’d never been a big brother before! He knew about the ones that came before him, he was not a stupid child, after all. No one really mentions the ones that died. Despite them never telling him about it, he knows that his parents fought about never having a daughter that lived. He told himself that it was right that they be careful.

He decided he sister. He supposed it would be fine to have a brother, but, he already had one of those.

There was Rhaenys but she didn’t live with him and she was his niece, not his sister. She also didn’t look like him. He wondered if this one would like him or not. Aegon did not look a thing like Rhaenys either!

He has not seen them in a week. He frowned.

Father said it was to protect them. When his father told mother and him to the stay in the Maidenvault, they were kept in Maegor’s Holdfast! They did not need protecting for Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon though. If they were a danger why had Father called for Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon from Dragonstone at all?

His mother had quieted him after he asked his father who never answered. 

The light flickers again as he thinks.

He squirms guiltily; he knew it had to do with Rhaegar, but, he did not understand why he was not allowed to see them. He did not understand but he knew not to ask Father. Mother had been firm on that after the first time!

Still, Elia was nice and Aegon could barely walk! Sure, Rhaenys could be annoying because she liked to pull at his hair; and, now she knew how to speak properly, she chattered so much! That cat who followed her everywhere was a menace, too. But, he liked having someone his own age to talk to. Everyone else was just so old and Aegon was too young.

His father did not keep squires or pages so there was no one else around besides his mother and Ser Willem Darry, two of his mother’s trusted ladies, and the new Septa. The maids came by only once a day. Now, even his mother was too silent and tired. Father had not come to see them since then either. 

The light flickers again. He blinks as he tears his gaze away when his name is called. “Viserys.”

It sounded like his father who was laughing, but, then he hears an echo that sounds like Rhaenys…if she was crying. But, she never cried. She was a silly thing who was always giggling about silly things like her cat.

When the sounds become louder a chill goes through him as he looks this way and that.

He clamps down on his rising fear. He wasn’t a baby. He was not going to act like it.

He’s not frightened. And why would he be frightened of his father and Rhaenys?

He was just about to call out to them, but, he does not see them. The light flickers again.

He blinked. Did he imagine it?

He goes to ask his mother if he heard them, but, neither she nor Ser Darry seemed to think anything was wrong.

He huffs. He was being silly, he decided. He did not see his father and Rhaenys. They were in an entirely different part of the Keep.

Not an even hour later he heard cries and shouts. He thought to begin to smell smoke when a pale faced servant burst through the doors. 

Confusion led to a flurry of whispered words. When the world fell from underneath him, the only thing he remembers is the sound of his mother screaming.

* * *

As he walks down the halls, he is faced with the signs of mourning.

At first, he thought it was a jape at his expense. Because, surely, his father cannot be dead anymore than Rhaenys and Aegon could be. 

Besides, he knew his father and Rhaenys are not dead. 

They walk when he walks, they stand when he stands. They do not talk much. They stand apart from him and each other. Yet, they are right there. They do not quite look the same, though. His father’s face is somehow always twisted in a sneer and there are scratches on Rhaenys’ face and hands. Both of their faces are reddened and blistered. The faint smell of smoke lingers. Still, they are right there even if no one else sees them and does not acknowledges them. 

He’d tried to tell his mother about them, “Mother, Father and Rhaenys are-”

“That spiteful fool!” His mother sobs, “If he wanted to kill someone, he should have killed me! Oh, Gods, they are dead! My poor babies! How am I going to look at Elia? How am I going to explain this to Rhaegar?”

Lady Bywater tried to comfort her with soothing words which had no effect while Lady Blount who had been looking on helplessly, shooed him away with the aid of Ser Darry. 

He’d wanted to argue that they could not possibly be dead. But, how could he? The halls are draped in mourning colors. There so few people about. And of the few that are, glance at them in pity in their eyes before turning away. 

So, they had to be dead. But why were they dead? 

To admit the truth would be too monstrous. Because his father would not do that…no matter what anyone said…even his mother who never spoke about it after that first awful night. That would make his father a Kinslayer. His father would not want to be one, would he? But it seemed that Father had!

_His father snarls even when Rhaenys whimpers. “Kin? They proved useless. If they were true kin their blood should have worked!”_

After that, he never tried to tell his mother. What other confirmation does he need? He heard it from his own father. 

Today, as he walks with his hand locked in his mother’s they are joined by Ser Jaime. Ser Jaime, who usually is witty, only speaks in clipped, short words now. He notices the knight walks with a slight limp. 

Ser Darry said Ser Jaime had been in the Black Cells. He thought he misunderstood when Ser Darry said it. After all, why would he be there? Surely, he did nothing to deserve it? And if he had been there, only his father could have put him there. Why, though? He never asked because he had not wanted the answer.

His mother whispers to the knight, “How is she today?”

Ser Jaime frowns and lets out a deep sigh. He allows, “Not well.”

Mother asks, “Do you know if she has eaten?”

The knight shakes his head. 

He finds himself saying, “Maybe she will get better when Rhaegar gets here.”

He is startled when his father hisses laughter. “Do not be a fool, boy. Your brother is useless, just like his children.”

Rhaenys whispers softly, “Father left us here.”

He ignores them and looks at his mother, hoping for agreement, but his mother bites her lip and turns her face away to stare straight ahead. A muscle in Jaime jaw tenses. Neither say a word as they press forward.

When they get to the chambers Elia is in, Rhaenys gleefully squeals “Mama!”

His father starts laughing when Elia does not respond and neither does Mother.

Can they truly not see Rhaenys like he could? Hear her, even? Elia used to smile and laugh at everything Rhaenys did. Mother used to love holding Rhaenys. 

Elia does not even glance at where Rhaenys was clearly standing. Instead, Elia slowly rises and dips her head towards his mother, “Your Grace.”

His mother flinches. Elia never called his mother, “Your Grace”. Did she think mother-

With a tight throat he squirms uncomfortably when his mother gathers Elia into her arms and both women cry. 

Rhaenys tries to call out again. Nothing happens. No one else can see or hear them. Not Elia, not Mother, not even Ser Jaime who was trying not to look to where the women were. His father cackles Rhaenys shrinks into herself. 

His father laughs again, “Stupid girl!”

Rhaenys goes towards their mothers but she goes through them as though she was made of air. 

Rhaenys tries again, “Mama…”

He whispers softly, “I do not think she can hear you.” 

His father sneers. “Why should she?” To him, his father says, “The girl is not special, her mother certainly is not. Viserys, you are, like I am.”

He tears his eyes away from his father when Rhaenys starts to cry. To get her to stop he tries the only thing he can think of. “I will talk to her for you.” 

That did not quite come out as he wanted but she looks so hopeful. “Will you, please? Uncle,” even as his father screams: “No! Viserys, you will not! I forbid it!”

At Rhaenys’ anxious cry, he nods. “I promise.”

She beams at him, but, it only makes the blisters on her face stand out more. He tries to smile back but the way his father howls makes him want to run and cover his ears. But, he cannot do that. The rest will think him mad. Though he should not have been listening, he heard whispers about his father and about how they worried because his father had kept him close. And now with this…

He swallows deeply when his father glares at him, almost stalking towards him with his hands out with those sharp nails. 

He backs away from them. 

His father stills when his mother beckons for him. But, he cannot ignore the snarl on his fathers face or the misery on Rhaenys’. 

When it is his turn, he dutifully hugs Elia, but the way she looks and the way she smells is wrong. He fidgets as Rhaenys whimpers. 

He looks closer at Elia though everything in him tells him not to. True enough, underneath the powders on Elia, and even he knew those were not the powders she usually favors, he can make out yellowed bruises on her face. Someone hit her! And with a sinking feeling he realized he knew exactly who.

That soft, cloying smell of those powders is too familiar not to realize it. They enveloped his mother after she spent many hours with only his father for company.

He quickly turns to his mother, who was now wiping away her tears. 

There was no denying it even if he wanted to. He turns to Rhaenys who looks at him and nods. He blinks back his tears. There was no mistake; his father had done it! But, there is one question that wears on him. “Where is Aegon then?”

Because surely, he should be here if they are, not that he knew what to say to him even if he was. 

Rhaenys almost starts to cry. “I do not know, Uncle,” she says quietly.

He murmurs how sorry he is even though his father yells, “There is nothing to be sorry about!”

He tries to ignore his father. Aegon was his nephew too. He should be sorry he is dead. Shouldn’t he? Aegon was a baby. Rhaenys, at least, could talk well and walk on her own.

But, he knows being sorry will not be enough.

Even though Rhaenys starts crying in earnest, Elia calls him a sweet boy. He leans into her despite the way he wants to run away from that smell...the one that, before, meant pain for his mother…but, now it means death for his brother’s wife.

He hears a faint cry and feels a weight at his feet. 

Unnecessarily, Rhaenys cries, “Balerion!” 

His father’s laughter fills the air as Rhaenys goes through the cat as easily as she had their mothers.

For some reason, the cat starts climbing him!

When he picks up the cat, it licks his cheek impudently. He glares at the little thing, but, not too hard because Rhaenys was watching him. Rhaenys claps her too small hands but there is little joy in her eyes. At least she does not sound too angry when she says, “He likes you, Uncle. You will care for him, won’t you?”

He nods, his throat tight.

More softly, Rhaenys asks, “Can you take care of Mama too?”

He is never felt so guilty in his life because he knows Rhaenys is right there. But, he already saw that Rhaenys cannot reach her. He also knows why. He cannot hide from that. Not now. 

And, he thinks with a lump in his throat, Aegon is not here either. He promised he would speak to Elia for Rhaenys. This isn’t that different, he decides.

Even as his father bares his teeth, he promises.

* * *

When Rhaegar returns there was no fanfare but too much happened too fast.

As easily as he was moved to the Maidenvault they were shuffled back to Maegor’s Holdfast. Still, there were places he was told not to go. The Throne Room was just one of them. 

His mother did not want him to go until the repairs were finished. She made him promise not to sneak inside. His mother said princes do not go back on their word. But, he would not have gone, even if his father tried to tell him to disobey his mother. Rhaenys did not like it and the burns on her face seem to shine when she said it smelled bad.

Their father loved having audiences in it. Rhaegar did not seem to be in any hurry to fix it. At first, he thought his brother was too busy. When he asked Rhaegar about it, Rhaegar paled and ordered him to listen to their mother and left him with the Maester for his lessons. 

Later, he overheard Rhaegar, in a too hoarse voice, tell his Hand, “No, not yet. I cannot bare it!”

But, that was not the only thing that changed. 

The Kingsguard came back though of the ones who went to the Trident with his brother only Ser Barristan returned. He, too, was in mourning and walked about as though he was a living wraith. Ser Gerold, who his father ordered to go looking for Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell, had returned with them. 

Elia did not speak to the latter three. In the rare occurrence that she walked the grounds, even if she looked as though she needed assistance, they were kept at a distance. When they had to guard her at night, they stayed outside her door. She never asked that of Ser Jaime or Ser Barristan or even Ser Willem who was made Kingsguard in Ser Jonothor’s place. 

Rhaenys never tried to speak to them like she had their mothers, either. The Rhaenys from before greeted each of them with a smile and a hug and called each of them uncle. Now, she stayed away. If they came near her, she backed away. Balerion hissed and growled every time he saw them. Sometimes they would get scratched. He’d lost count of how many times Balerion tried to scratch Rhaegar and so he had to let Balerion out to roam away anytime Rhaegar was about.

Not that he was with Rhaegar much. Rhaegar may have won, but there was so much to do. Cousin Robert was dead, and rebels like Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully, and Eddard Stark had been sent to the Wall. Their heirs were brought to King’s Landing. Lady Arryn and Lady Stark, along with the new little Stark and the Tully heir, were now the ones in the Maidenvault. They were accompanied by someone called Ethan Glover from the North who bowed low to Elia whenever he saw her and did his best to ignore Rhaegar. Lady Rhaelle, his parent’s aunt, came and would stay long enough to ensure Lord Renly was comfortable…in Elia’s care.

And still, there was no public funeral for Father. He had, however, joined his mother, Rhaegar, and Elia in a prayer at the Sept of Baelor along with the High Septon for the souls of Aegon and Rhaenys for hours.

Most of all there was a change for him. The first time a courtier called him “Crown Prince” he nearly jumped, wondering why the man called him that.

Only, Rhaenys quietly murmured, “You are that now, Uncle.”

His father snarled. “Of course, you stupid girl. He is meant to be king! Who else was there? Your brother?” His father sneers.

The more his father spoke the more Rhaenys shrunk back, paling.

His father should not have said that. “Father, do not!” 

His father snarls, “Don’t sass me boy!”

Balerion climbed up on his shoulders then and he pet the cat who buried his small head into the crook of his neck.

Elia smiled encouragingly at him even though her smile was a thin one. Rhaegar had not corrected that man. It had not escaped him that Rhaegar had not seemed happy about it even though his mother, however, had patted his shoulder and tried to smile. 

He had wondered why Rhaegar would not have been happy for something that made sense to him. After all, if Aegon passed a different way, he still would have been Rhaegar’s heir since Rhaegar and Elia do not have any other sons. 

His father smirked. “Your brother was a fool to think he could replace you.”

He frowned at that. Replace him? How? 

Rhaenys said simply, “Uncle could not be replaced!”

His father turns to his niece and grinned meanly, “My fool of a son already replaced you and that brother of yours.” His father chortles, “But, you are right. He cannot replace my boy.”

Rhaenys’ face crumbles anew. He turns to his father and tells him to stay away.

She did not need to hear that even if it was true. He heard about Lyanna Stark who was in the capitol, with her son…and Rhaegar’s and a few days earlier Rhaegar went to speak to the High Septon. Ser Arthur and the Glover man had gone with him along with Elia and Lady Rhaelle. All their faces were grim that day.

Oddly enough the Glover man came back first, looking satisfied. He remained long enough to remark to his mother, Elia and Rhaelle elected to stay at the Sept, to “pray for your grandchildren, my queen” before he made his way back to the Maidenvault. 

By the time Elia and Lady Rhaelle had come back, it had been hours. Rhaegar, once he finally returned, looked worn as he made his way back to his rooms with a grim Ser Arthur at his heels. Rhaegar was not seen until the next day.

Even then, the news spread that High Septon refused to honor Rhaegar’s vows to Lyanna on the grounds that vows outside of those under the Seven took were not for him to honor when Rhaegar already swore vows to Elia under their faith first. Renly told him that Glover and Lady Rhaelle said that Rhaegar, even if he was a prince, should have never interfered with the promises already by Lord Rickard who was the head of Lady Lyanna’s house when the vows were made.

Later, he learned, Rhaegar issued a proclamation that Jaeherys was legitimized and even he knew legitimized was not born legitimate. His mother had taken him aside and told him not to pay any of that mind and just be the best prince he could be. Both his father and his niece agreed that day.

Now though…

“No, boy,” his father laughs, “I am not going anywhere.”

Rhaenys steps forward, scowling at Father. “Neither am I.”


End file.
